The Peasant and the Peacekeeper
by theamityartist
Summary: Love can be quiet. Love can joke. Love can be distant. Love can awe. Love is an encounter. And this love is secret.


The small girl of sixteen walks swiftly and quietly down the dingy, winding road of District 12. Dirt and dust kicks up with each step she takes, rests on her old and worn, but nevertheless nice shoes, and settles back down onto the ground in her wake. A few strands of her blonde hair escape from their place behind her ear, floating on the wind, and she takes her time in tucking them back as she listens to the sounds of the leaves rustling and smells the distinct scent of pollen and soil riding high in the air.

Coins jingle metallically in the pocket of her crisp dress, making the light, high-pitched noise that they always do, and her hand pats them absentmindedly through the fabric as her mind recalls what her father had sent her out for. A sharp feeling of gratitude stabs at her chest as she passes by a meager child, the boy's ribs nearly sticking out his skin. Her feet automatically take her down to the local bakery, and she smiles warmly at the scrawny boy, reminding herself to share some food with him on her way home. She is so lost in thought that she almost misses hearing her name being called from somewhere nearby. She stops suddenly, looking up from the cracks in the old road at which she had been staring. Her hand hovers over the hem of her tiny pocket, motionless, as her eyes roam around in search of her caller.

She is in front of the Hob, the black market of their District- a place she is wary about entering. Before her a man with shocking red hair, in an equally shocking white uniform, leans casually against one of the sellers' stands, a hand running carelessly through his messy locks. The man looks quite out of place, but he wears a boyish smirk on his face, with freckles so defined she can see them clear as day from her place in the middle of the street, several yards away. He gazes directly at her.

She blinks and glances around once more for another person to whom he could be addressing before reluctantly meeting his eye again.

"Yes, I'm speaking to you, Mayor's daughter!" He chuckles confidently, flashing his ivory teeth at her.

Her finger twitches, grazing a loose thread sewn into the neatly pressed material.

The young woman continues to look warily at the man, uneasy upon noticing the glares they receive at his haughty cry. The people of the Seam stare at the two of them, together, with hatred in their eyes- her for her father's seemingly unfair wealth, and him for his loathed occupation of choice. Despite the contrast in affluence between the many people of the District, everyone is still considered lowly. They are the poorest of the poor, herself and her family included. She tears her eyes from the impoverished community, who nearly radiate their disgust for the odd pair, and flick them back towards the man.

Her mind urges her to continue on her way; the sun is almost setting and the bakery is soon closing. She thinks of the bread buns her father expects her to return with, but her feet won't budge.

At least not in the direction she had planned; the girl takes a step to face the man, cautiously. The grin hasn't slipped from his face and he jerks his chin up quickly, motioning her over to him in an informal greeting.

She simply looks at him with a blank stare for a moment.

Then, she blinks.

Once.

Twice.

And she slowly approaches him as he implied her to do- resisting the urge to glance back down the road where the old man at the bakery must be cleaning up and getting ready to leave for the night- and halts a good distance away from him.

"Aw, come on, Madgie. I was simply going to introduce myself," he calls. He holds his hands up in a peace offering to her, obviously noticing her suspicion of him. "It's only fair, hm?" The man keeps his smile warm as he stares the girl down with his intense, bright eyes, trying to convince her non-verbally that he means no harm. She gives him one swift nod and closes the distance between them in three long strides, holding her hand out to him.

He takes it in his own, large calloused hand, but instead of shaking it as she had intended him to, he tugs her into him and throws one arm nonchalantly over her shoulder, laughing lightly at the squeak he draws out of her. A lock of her hair once again falls out into her face and hides her whole right cheek from the Peacekeeper and she watches silently as the man she doesn't yet know reaches out and slyly swipes a hairpin from the teller's stand. He coolly pulls her hair back and slides the slender thing in place for her, adjusting the hairpiece slightly. He nods once at his work as if he needs his own approval and swings her around so they are facing the center of the market, still on the outskirts.

"Let's go for a walk," he says, leading her into the fairly crowded, stuffy, odorous place. Thinking that, what with his being a Peacekeeper, she couldn't protest, the girl somewhat distantly obliges. On her way past the stand littered with jewelry, though, she slips one silver coin out of her pocket and places it on the table before the redheaded man beside her could object.

They walk together for a while, the man being perfectly comfortable with the situation at hand and the girl being slightly _un_comfortable; she eyes his arm around her in a way she thinks is inconspicuous as he teases mercilessly with her. After a few minutes of a very one-sided conversation, though, he picks up on her solitary attitude and the fact that she doesn't want to contribute. It is silent between them for a while longer, him giving the girl her own closed-off space, but finally he speaks again.

"You-" he points one long, tanned finger at her chest, "-are Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter."

Cocky.

Flirtatious.

He drops his finger and they keep walking, but he continues to stare at the young woman as if waiting for a response. Upon realizing this, she bobs her head a couple of times. There's a beat before he continues with another one of his charming grins. "Not very talkative, are we?"

She gazes up at the tall man and replies with a soft spoken, "I have nothing to say."

They pass by a woman selling some sort of lumpy, thick stew to whom he waves and stops at, quickly ladling a bowlful out and handing it to the blonde girl beside him. She looks bewildered at the soup in her hands as he plops a small spoon into it and tells her animatedly, "Try it, it's good." She looks back down at the meaty, spiced, brothy stew and obediently does as she's told. As the spoon meets her mouth, the girl turns the corners of her lips up in response, staring shyly at the bigger woman.

A ghost of a smile.

"See?" The guy nudges her affectionately. "What did I tell you?"

She licks her lips and swirls the spoon around in the horrid-looking but surprisingly savory soup. Her now-companion once again tosses his arm haphazardly around her and swivels her around to go in another direction, weaving through the very mundane onlookers who stare with varying degrees of curiosity.

"That was Greasy Sae," he says as he leads her to another spot near one of the far-back corners of the market that is less crowded than everywhere else. "She's a good woman, she is."

The girl at his side nods, listening.

"Oh!" She mumbles, and gently shrugs out from beneath him, meandering back through the mass of District 12 citizens with a certain grace and poise that most others you would find here don't. The man watches her from afar as she takes her time on her way towards the woman, pausing to let the olive-skinned, dark-haired kin pass her while she reaches into the folds of her skirt and pulls out a couple shiny pieces of silver. She holds them out to the woman. The joking man becomes solemn as he regards the exchange, and still as the younger woman weaves her way back towards him.

The sun has gone down and beautiful pastel smears of oranges and pinks and blues are now being replaced by the darker, overhanging grey in the sky.

Children have returned to their parents.

Elderly couples, with creases deep-set into their skin, walk hand in hand together, returning home.

The young Mayor's daughter turns the rough wooden bowl around in the palms of her hands before setting it down on a nearby stand that has already been packed up for the night and abandoned by the owner, devoid of all objects. She looks up into the stormy eyes of the tall Peacekeeper a mere two feet from her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You still haven't introduced yourself to me."

His eyebrows shoot up.

"That's not very fair, is it?"

Surprise is quickly replaced by smugness in his features, the man shifting his weight comfortably from one foot to the other. He meets her survey and returns it with his own long, fixed stare.

"I supposed not," he quietly amends. His gaze flicks from her piercing blue eyes to her lips and back when he uncrosses his arms and leans into her secretively. "My name," he lies a hand on her waist and draws her into him, cutting the distance apart from each other down by half, "is Darius."

The golden-haired girl watches his mouth as the soft whisper leaves his lips and she smiles, raising onto her toes as she wraps her own arms around his neck. Her eyes flutter shut and a warm breathy sigh escapes her as her lips meet his. The kind man presses a sturdy hand flat against the small of her back, pushing her even closer to him, as the other finds its way up to her hair, where he softly removes the pin. Her silky hair falls down and her weaves his fingers into it, her own fingers tangling in his.

They melt in that one kiss.

And when they break apart, the girl has a rosy glow to her cheeks and the boy has a sparkle in his eye.

"You taste like strawberries," she utters.

And his returning grin is the most pure a thing to ever beset his ivory-skinned face.

Today is the day a Peacekeeper falls in love with a peasant.


End file.
